True




We talked to each other while climbing up in different staircases 
The words were torn by so much space
 White, secret, sigh, burn after reading
The raw material of the untold
 Investment in the heavy
Painful as an amputated limb
Vibrating of the shocks and of the weight of tests

Missed the envy of a delicate wash
Missed the fresh air of the steppes
The one that perfumes the language with its saps
Coats the lips of what it takes for them to stick to each other
Lastly, stick to the pure
The hard infamous droitures

We hit our forehead
Against the citadels of silence and their resignation
The idea that all is well is an expensive effort
 We avoided each other in the pretenses
 The lie draped in silk of love virtues
Without lifting once the curtain
 Over the devastating strength of truths
Blinding, yet I know you know, they were 




July 2014